


Anticipation

by halotolerant



Series: View from the Afternoon [1]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Butt Plugs, Dirty Talk, Flirting, Large Cock, M/M, Phone Sex, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, s2 alternate ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-18
Updated: 2016-01-18
Packaged: 2018-05-14 18:38:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5753956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halotolerant/pseuds/halotolerant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Is the room adequate?” is in fact the first thing Hannibal says, after they’ve exchanged greetings, into the rather thrilling silence that follows - they both know it won’t be long, now, until they’re reunited. Things needing saying can be said in person, soon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anticipation

**Author's Note:**

> **Notes** : For the anon prompt:
> 
>  
> 
> _Shameless prompt: Will has a lavishly massive cock that he's somewhat embarrassed by. Hannibal loves it._
> 
>  
> 
> and also **norfolkdumpling** who prompted 'phone sex'

Will’s dozed off slightly on the hotel bed by the time his phone goes, but with the start of the ringtone he’s alert and scrambling for it, rucking up the posh satin counterpane. 

 

He’s overnighting in an airport for less than eight hours between connecting flights - he didn’t even think he needed a hotel room. But Hannibal had sent the booking along with the tickets, and so to this velvety box of luxury Will has come, as instructed. 

 

“Is the room adequate?” is in fact the first thing Hannibal says, after they’ve exchanged greetings, into the rather thrilling silence that follows - they both know it won’t be long, now, until they’re reunited. Things needing saying can be said in person, soon. 

 

Will feels a ripple of excitement climb his spine, and smiles far more indulgently than the question warrants. 

 

“The room is excessively comfortable. The business-class seat in the first airplane was scarcely like being in a plane at all and I dare say the next one will be the same. You’ve taken good care of me.”

 

That gets a little intake of breath from the other end of the phone, and Will lies back on the bed and looks at the ceiling and smiles again. 

 

He can’t quite believe, yet, that this is real. That he managed to conjure this from the escalating disaster of his plans with Jack - disaster in that they appeared to be coming to success, and that he had realised, too late - almost too late - that the ways he wanted to pin Hannibal down had nothing to do with the FBI any more. 

 

It’s easy to laugh now, laugh as a person who tripped and nearly fell can laugh, adrenaline and relief and a momentary impression of immortality, bound round with the fear of what might have been. 

 

“I hope you will like what I having awaiting your arrival here,” Hannibal says now, all caramel smooth. “I believe you will be pleased.”

 

Will shakes his head fondly - there’s no one to see after all. “And I believe you have absolutely no intention of spoiling your own surprise and telling me anything at all, and so I won’t waste my breath asking.”

 

Hannibal chuckles again, and Will feels a gratifying warmth suffuse his skin. 

 

“Besides,” Will adds, and rolls over onto his stomach, letting the pressure of the bed under his body do the work of another’s touch, “I know that there is much awaiting that will please me.”

 

It’s such a new and wonderful and devastating power, flirting with Hannibal in the most real, most obvious, most explicit sense. Of course he knows, now, that this feeling he’s been chasing, he’s been chasing far longer than he knew he was chasing Hannibal. 

 

“I’ve missed your smile,” Will confesses, sighing, not having meant to speak. “I miss you looking at me.”

 

“I promise Will, I will look at you as often as like. And perhaps rather more often than that.”

 

“Do you think? Just now I’m not sure I could ever get enough of it.” 

 

Another laugh, shorter, somewhat amused. “I have drawn myself pictures of you. I tell you this because, as a Federal Agent, I have no doubt you will find them anyway. I have drawn you from memory over this three months, from every memory I have, and I look at those pictures, and it is as pleasing as eating a drawing of a banquet would be.”

 

“I’m going to go with your theme and assume that’s not pleasing?” Will laughs at Hannibal’s outraged noise. “Come on! You’re a gourmand and really quite an unusual one, for all I know eating paper is what the best people do, the finest - the finest sensual pleasure that doesn’t involve drowning songbirds.”

 

“You thought that was foolish.”

 

“I thought that was nothing a mcnugget wouldn’t have been - but - wait! Don’t hang up on me!” Will stifles more laughter. “Eating it with you, hearing about your life, your experiences? That was something.”

 

“Despite your very questionable humour,” Hannibal says wearily - and he, Will thinks, is one to talk - “I cannot end this call until I have communicated certain plans to you.”

 

“Oh yes?” Will sits up, blinks, ties to focus his mind back from thoughts of objects entering Hannibal’s wide, red mouth. 

 

“We were speaking of sensual pleasures, and of how I miss you,” Hannibal continues, his voice dropping low. 

 

Will blinks again. A new wave of heat rushes over him. 

 

“As I have said, there is nothing very… satisfying, in your image on paper.” And Hannibal makes a noise a little like a sigh. 

 

Will bites his lip, and wishes he had the kind of phone that did video calls - except maybe that would make not being physically present with Hannibal even more tantalisingly unbearable. 

 

“And I know what I have to look forward to, in you, my dearest.” 

 

Will makes a protesting noise and puts a consoling hand to the growing bulge in his boxers. 

 

Growing and growing some more, and it was never small to start with. He’s been self-conscious off it since high school showers, and it’s more than most people want to begin to deal with, least of all male partners. 

 

When Hannibal had got done stripping him, the night they came together in the wake of ‘Freddie’s’ blood and Will’s confession that it wasn’t Freddie’s (and that, oh, how much he wanted it to be), Hannibal had stood back and licked his lips. 

 

Hannibal has the worst, the most appalling sense of humour. 

 

Will slips his hand under the boxers’ waist band. He can’t close his fist around his cock any more, grown too thick and fat and straining hot. He’s getting wet too, dribbling like a broken faucet. 

 

 _What are you, some kind of inaccurate manga fantasy?_ One of his exes had said, trying to be light, the first time they’d been naked together. 

 

“Yes, are you touching yourself?” The cold-embarrassed chill scurries away before Hannibal’s soft, low voice. “Are you getting that nice thickness ready to put in me?”

 

Will’s eyes flutter closed. He takes a sharp inhale of air. 

 

“Fuck. Hannibal. Are you… You’re alone, right?”

 

“Quite alone,” Hannibal murmurs. “I’ve come to the airport here to wait for you, and we have a room for when you first arrive. It would be most inadvisable for me to drive to our new home from here in my current state.”

 

“Your current…?” Will hasn’t even got the breath to finish the question. His palm is flagrantly rubbing at his groin now, even though he’s kidding himself it doesn’t count. He’s going to be humping his hand in a minute. 

 

“I wanted to be ready for you, Will. For all of you.”

 

Will spreads his legs and lets himself rub his thumb over the head of his cock. He chokes out a small cry of relief and then feels the echo of the pleasure ricochet back, getting him even harder, making touch even more imperative. 

 

“Fuck you, Hannibal,” he mutters. “You’re so far away.”

 

“You will fuck me. You will come out of customs and meet me, and I will lead you to this hotel room, which will take only eleven minutes if the shuttle buses keep to their schedule - I will admit I have not studied this, being somewhat occupied - and we will be naked together, and you will find that I’m quite ready for you, ready for you to come inside me.”

 

Will makes a strangled noise that’s almost a sob. “What did you do?”

 

“You can deduce.”

 

“Tell me, Hannibal, or I swear to God I’ll… Gnargh!” Will bucks his hips into his fist and fairly shakes with frustration of all the places around him that Hannibal isn’t. 

 

Since they parted it’s been like missing a limb, but this is even worse than that. He doesn’t just want to be inside Hannibal in a sexual way - though fuck knows that too - he wants to be _inside Hannibal_ , and know they’re fixed together, inseparable. 

 

Hannibal chuckles again, but he’s breathing more heavily than he was. 

 

“I have oiled myself for you, Will. I have worked my sphincter with my fingers for a prolonged period of time until, now, I am loose and sore and aching for you. I have inserted a silicone object of a size approaching your dimensions, and it is sitting in me now, and I am throbbing where it sits, and in this way I will be ready, tomorrow, for you simply to take it out and enter me at once.”

 

“Your… idea… of… sexy… talk,” Will gasps. 

 

“Tell me what you are doing now,” Hannibal demands. 

 

“Gonna… get off… with it in?” Will pushes into his fist and feels his legs start to tremble - he’s not going to be long. 

 

“I have not allowed myself sexual release since we parted, since I spilt myself into your mouth eighty-nine days ago. The next time I achieve orgasm, it will again be by your touch. I merely wish to know.”

 

“I… aiiiigahdahfsf,” Will manages, and comes all over his hand, his boxers and the fancy counterpane. 

 

For a little moment, the room spins and he can’t breathe. 

 

“I’m sorry,” he pants down the phone, when he can. “But soon - so soon, Hannibal, fuck, I need you - soon I’ll show you in person.”

 

“Darling,” Hannibal tells him, voice thick. He sounds… hard. 

 

Will flops down onto the bed again, and gets back to smiling. 


End file.
